man-You now convince me, my dear, that you are nearer of kin than I thought you, to the family that could. think of so preposterous a match, or you would never have had the least notion of my advising in his favour.

:

That they prohibit your corresponding with me, is a wisdom I neither wonder at nor blame them for: since it is an evidence to me that they know their own folly and if they do, is it strange that they should be afraid to trust another's judgment upon it?

We heard before you wrote that all was not right between your relations and you at your coming home that Mr. Solmes visited you, and that with a prospect of success. But I concluded the mistake lay in the person, and that his address was to Miss Arabella. And indeed had she been as good-natured as your plump ones generally are, I should have thought her too good for him by half. This must certainly be the thing, thought I; and my beloved friend is sent for to advise and assist in her nuptial preparations. Who knows, said I to my mother, but that when the man has thrown aside his yellow fullbuckled peruke, and his broad-brimmed beaver (both of which I suppose were Sir Oliver's best of long standing) he may cut a tolerable figure dangling to church with Miss Bell! The woman, as she observes, should excel the man in features: and where can she match so well for a foil?

I indulged this surmise against rumour, because I could not believe that the absurdest people in England could be so very absurd as to think of this man for you.

We heard moreover, that you received no visitors. I could assign no reason for this; except that the preparations for your sister were to be private, and the ceremony sudden, for fear this man should, as another man did, change his mind. Miss Lloyd and Miss Biddulph were with me to enquire what I knew of this; and of your not being at church, either morning or afternoon, the Sunday

after your return from us; to the disappointment of a little hundred of your admirers, to use their words. It was easy for me to guess the reason to be what you confirm their apprehensions that Lovelace would be there, and attempt to wait on you home.

My mother takes very kindly your compliments in your letter to her. Her words upon reading it were; "Miss Clarissa Harlowe is an admirable young lady: wherever she goes, she confers a favour: whomever she leaves, she fills with regret." And then a little comparative reflection; "O my Nancy, that you had a little of her sweet obligingness!"

No matter. The praise was yours. You are me; and I enjoyed it. The more enjoyed it, because-shall I tell you the truth?-because I think myself as well as I amwere it but for this reason; that had I twenty brother James's, and twenty sister Bell's, not one of them, nor all of them joined together, would dare to treat me as yours presume to treat you. I am fitter for this world than you you for the next than me;-that's the difference.

I communicated to my mother the account you give of your strange reception; also what a horrid wretch they have found out for you; and the compulsory treatment they give you. It only set her on magnifying her lenity to me on my tyrannical behaviour, as she will call it (mothers must have their way, you know, my dear) to the man whom she so warmly recommends, against whom it seems there can be no just exception. Moreover she lends a pretty open ear to the preachments of that starch old bachelor your uncle Antony; and for an example to her daughter would be more careful how she takes your part, be the cause ever so just.

But can you divine, my dear, what that old preachmentmaking plump-hearted soul your uncle Antony means by his frequent amblings hither?-There is such smirking and smiling between my mother and him! Such mutual

praises of economy; and "That is my way!"-and "This I do!" and "I am glad it has your approbation, sir!"and "You look into everything, madam!"-"Nothing would be done, if I did not !"-Such exclamations against servants! Such exaltings of self! And dear heart, and good lack-and 'las a day!-And now and then their conversation sinking into a whispering accent, if I come cross them -I'll tell you, my dear, I don't above half like it. Only that these old bachelors usually take as many years to resolve upon matrimony as they can reasonably expect to live, or I should be ready to fire upon his visits.

You are pleased to say, and upon your word too, that your regards (a mighty quaint word for affections) are not so much engaged, as some of your friends suppose, to another person.

So much engaged!-How much, my dear? You seem to own a little.

But further you say, What preferable favour you may have for him to any other person, is owing more to the usage he has received, and for your sake borne, than to any personal consideration.

This is generously said. It is in character. But, O my friend, depend upon it, you are in danger. Depend upon it, whether you know it or not, you are a little in for't. Your native generosity and greatness of mind endanger you all your friends, by fighting against him with impolitic violence, fight for him. And Lovelace, my life for yours, notwithstanding all his veneration and assiduities, has seen further than that veneration and those assiduities (so well calculated to your meridian) will let him own he has seen.

In short, my dear, it is my opinion, and that from the easiness of his heart and behaviour, that he has seen more than I have seen; more than you think could be seen;more than I believe you yourself know, or else you would have let me know it.

Already, in order to restrain him from resenting the indignities he has received, and which are daily offered him, he has prevailed upon you to correspond with him privately. I know he has nothing to boast of from what you have written: but is not his inducing you to receive his letters, and to answer them, a great point gained? By your insisting that he should keep this correspondence private, it appears that there is one secret which you do not wish the world should know: and he is master of that secret. He is indeed himself, as I may say, that secret! What an intimacy does this beget for the lover! How is it distancing the parent!

It is my humble opinion, I tell you frankly, that on enquiry it will come out to be love—don't start, my dear! -Has not your man himself had natural philosophy enough to observe already to your aunt Hervey, that love takes the deepest root in the steadiest minds? The deuce take his sly penetration, I was going to say; for this was six or seven weeks ago.

I have been tinctured, you know. Nor on the coolest reflection, could I account how and when the jaundice began but had been over head and ears, as the saying is, but for some of that advice from you which I now return you. Yet my man was not half so-so what, my dear— to be sure Lovelace is a charming fellow. And were he only-but I will not make you glow, as you read—upon my word I will not.-Yet, my dear, don't you find at your heart somewhat unusual make it go throb, throb, throb, as you read just here ?—If you do, don't be ashamed to own it. It is your generosity, my love! that's all. But, as the Roman augur said, Cæsar, beware of the Ides of March! Your ever affectionate, ANNA HOWE,

MISS CLARISSA HARLOWE TO MISS HOWE.

Wednesday, March 1.

CANNOT own any of the glow, any of the throbs you mention. Upon my word I will repeat, I

cannot. And yet the passages in my letter upon which you are so humorously severe, lay me fairly open to your agreeable raillery. I own they do. And I cannot tell what turn my mind had taken to dictate so oddly to my pen.

But, pray now-Is it saying so much, when one, who has no very particular regard to any man, says, there are some who are preferable to others? Mr. Lovelace, for instance, I may be allowed to say, is a man to be preferred to Mr. Solmes; and that I do prefer him to that man: but, surely, this may be said without its being a necessary consequence that I must be in love with him.

Indeed I would not be in love with him, as it is called, for the world: first, because I have no opinion of his morals. Next, because I think him to be a vain man, capable of triumphing (secretly at least) over a person whose heart he thinks he has engaged. And, thirdly, because the assiduities and veneration which you impute to him, seem to carry a haughtiness in them, as if he thought his address had a merit in it, that would be more than an equivalent to a woman's love.

Indeed, my dear, this man is not the man. I have great objections to him. My heart throbs not after him. I glow not, but with indignation against myself for having given room for such an imputation.

Be satisfied, my dear, meantime that I am not displeased with you: indeed I am not.

Your equally affectionate and grateful,

CL. HARLOWE.

VOL. I.

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